We will meet again
by EliMiwa
Summary: 100 Year War, 1417. Francis mourns over his lost friendship with Arthur, thinks about the war, before meeting someone who will become significant for him in a few years.


[ It will never end.

We fought, we made peace, and we're fighting again. Is it going to be like that for our whole life ?

We used to be so close, Arthur. It seems like yesterday to me. It was simpler when the conflicts between our people didn't affect us.

When you didn't hate me.

Isn't it stupid, how we started fighting ? One day, it was gone. Your fairies, the magic, it was simply gone. And I forgot they existed, for a while. Even now, it's hard to remember. I've been too proud. I refused to admit they ever existed, I refused to admit I was wrong. I think you never forgave me.

I came back, one day, and I apologized but it was too late.

You wanted to grow, you wanted to be independent, and I wanted to keep you for myself.

I refused to see how strong you were.

And now, look at us. I keep pretending that I hate you, because it's easier that way. Of course, sometimes I think you're an idiot, of course I fight you back, and of course I want to hate you when you hurt me, when you hurt my people.

But I can't forget these years. I miss the old times, I suppose.

We were much wiser than the young men that we are now.

Who am I, running away like this. It's not like you will find me. ]

_And yet, Francis Bonnefoy was running to nowhere. He remembered the first time he had run through the forest and had fallen asleep against a tree. When he had woken up, that scruffy child with deep green eyes was staring at him. Arthur Kirkland._

_They could never be apart since that day, whether they were friends of enemies. These two were very close, right ? You care about the people you hate._

[ Maybe I'd rather have you hating me. At least I'm still in your life.]

_It was summer and the end of the day ; most of his people were still working in the fields. The young man slowed down his pace, and started watching them. Sometimes, he thought that humans were way wiser than them, the nations. They weren't so lucky either, contrary to what he used to think when he was little. They had to deal with death, losing their parents, their children, sometimes with fear ; they hadn't chosen to live in a country in constant war._

[ I'm sorry.. I'm not doing my job with you.]

_As he walked past a farm, he noticed a little girl sitting on the side of the road. She wasn't older than five years old, but Francis couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked. She was very small for her age, with a round face and very long, blond hair. Her eyes were blue and full of light. She was just the child of a farmer, judging by her clothes, but something was noble about her. The young man couldn't grasp why, but she seemed special._

"Are you sad ?" _she asked. It surprised Francis. He shrugged and was about to walk away, but the way she wouldn't stop looking at him stopped him. He sat down besides her._

"I'm not sad, petite fille. I'm fine." _He wasn't going to talk about his problems to a human child, now was he ?_

"You don't look happy. What's your name ?"

"My name is Francis. What about you ?"

"I'm Jeanne."

_Francis smiled warmly to her._

"Alright, _Jeannette_, don't worry about me. I am perfectly fine."

_The child didn't answer. It seemed like she was trying to read in the older one's eyes. As stupid as it sounded, it made him uncomfortable. He had never felt so much at ease with humans._

"We will see again," _she said, solemnly._

"How are you so sure of that ?"

"I know it."

_What a peculiar little girl. She seemed sincerely convinced of that. She rose to her feet and brushed a hand on Francis' cheek._

"Don't be sad. Be strong and protect us. I know you can do it. You promise ?"

_Astonished, France instinctively nodded._

"Promise then."

_And there she left, walking away and leaving the Frenchman stupefied. How did she know ? How did she know who he was ?_

"See you again, if you are right, petite fille…" _he whispered._

_The promises you make to children are the most precious ones, you have to keep them. He couldn't break this one. Francis wasn't sure he wanted to admit it, but Jeanne had made him feel a little better. _

_He had to do it. He had to be strong for his people, and stop mourning on old friendships._

_As he got up, he made another promise, this one to himself : No matter what, he will keep on fighting._


End file.
